


You Keep Passing Me By

by hovercraft



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Pining, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 04:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hovercraft/pseuds/hovercraft
Summary: "I just… I feel close to you, and that’s weird for me, because I don’t like feeling close to anyone and my life is better off if I’m not. And you feel the exact same way, too!” Merlin wagged a finger. “You don’t like anyone getting close because all you wish for is oblivion at the end of the journey—you want to think of yourself as an idea rather than a person, but guess what! You’re a person and I’m a person, and we just have to deal with it!”Request for midnightshadowchild on tumblr.





	You Keep Passing Me By

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midnightshadowchild](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=midnightshadowchild).

> King Hassan came home to me twice, and this is how I repay him. Why, you ask?

Merlin was the first person to see King Hassan without his mask.

Many people questioned if his face even was a mask in the first place, the shroud hanging from the skull obscuring what could be seen entirely; and that was how King Hassan preferred it. He should be a nameless ghost, death itself cloaked in the form of the reaper. He wasn’t fond of his ties to humanity, loathed to think he was even once a child. He was too old, too eternal, and there was another person in Chaldea that shared that kind of life. Of all people, it was the licentious, happy-go-lucky Merlin.

Merlin, who would tease and beleaguer many other servants, did nothing so with King Hassan. Perhaps it was because he valued his neck, but he was the Grand Caster to his Grand Assassin. Class advantage gave him some kind of dumb bravery around him, or maybe it was more than that. Maybe Merlin, for all his claim that he wasn’t fond of individual people, wanted something like a friend he could relate to.

Why it was him, King Hassan didn’t know. He loathed depravity, which Merlin gave off in droves, but never around the assassin himself. He sensed something eternally lonely about the mage, who never asked for anything more than King Hassan’s time. They would discuss things that had been going on since ages past; events in history only the two of them had claimed to see. King Hassan’s tales were bloody, unboastful, retellings of assassinations in history, which Merlin would then divert into tales of humanity’s various successes. One thing they could agree on was a love for their master, which had manifested as friendship for King Hassan, who rarely had such a thing, and as a strange obsession for Merlin, who couldn’t tell if they were an exception to the rule or not.

Ritsuka would one day die, along with the rest of Chaldea, so Merlin was making it a rule not to get attached.

“Will you abandon them before their death, mage?” King Hassan wasted no cruelty reminding Merlin of his abrupt disappearance from Artoria’s life, but it was laughed off by Merlin, who didn’t show it if it hurt.

“I’m just here for the ride. You never know. Chaldea’s greatest mage may make it into the Throne of Heores. If that’s the case, I shall enjoy bugging them for the rest of eternity.”

“…”

“You don’t like the cycle of the Holy Grail Wars, do you, King Hassan?”

“Good memories… a good life. I wish for oblivion, even if I cannot have it.”

“They’re only good memories if you get to keep them,” Merlin reminded him gently. “Perhaps existing to keep those memories isn’t so bad.”

“Hmph.”

Merlin was happy to sit close to him, to enjoy his time. King Hassan was a beast beside him, large and intimidating, and he yearned secretly to see what was behind the mask.

“Have you ever shown anyone your face?”

“What could they possibly have to gain from seeing it? No.”

“Well… some people’s curiosity might be sated.”

“Are you speaking of others, or yourself, mage?”

“Ha ha! Guilty as charged. I guess… I want to know you better, but you wear your outfit like a wall. You keep such a sense of identity as the First Hassan that you don’t let anyone really into your thoughts. I just want to see the man, not Death itself.”

“… what good would it do you, Magus of Flowers? Be honest.”

He couldn’t very well confess his attraction to someone whose face he’d never seen, so Merlin had to think of something clever to say on the spot. “I think you deserve friends too, Old Man of the Mountain.”

“…” What was it about this contemptable mage that got under his skin? Perhaps it was Chaldea’s relatively carefree lifestyle between rayshifts, or perhaps it was just something so utterly convincing coming from the mage himself. He’d never seen Merlin open up to anyone else like this, and he’d watched, believe him. Merlin had a false air of careless behavior that was inflicted on the other residents, something that made other servants not trust him—to the point of calling him the ‘worst con artist in the history of conning’. What convinced him that it wasn’t the case between the two of them?

Merlin was lonely, too. His behavior was very deliberate—the more he pushed people away, the less attached he became to them, and the more he could solicit the lie that individual humans didn’t interest him because of his Incubi nature. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

King Hassan sighed, and removed his mask.

Merlin was shocked.

He had expected violet hair, like the other Hassans, but instead it was a deep brown with silver starting to grow in. His face was scarred every which-way, but underneath it you could see something handsome, chiseled and old. He was less ‘gramps’ than the other servants gave him credit for. The most notable thing about him, though, were his eyes. Those were the only things you could see faintly behind the mask, lit in a light blue, but without the mask, they were an empty black. No light reached them. Merlin knew eyes like those; ones that had seen war and the death of innocent lives and having taken lives himself. It was completely unexpected, yet absolutely reasonable.

“May I…?”

“May you _what_, mage.”

“Touch.”

“… Hmph.”

Merlin took it as permission, reaching up to his face and feeling over the scars that ran over his lips and cheek, feeling around the side of his neck to find his throat had once been cut and yet he’d survived—amazing! This was Death itself, and he was handsome. Even Merlin had to admit it, who usually favored young beauties. Even as King Hassan gazed down at him, his expression never changing, Merlin was absolutely transfixed.

And he might have felt a feeling.

Oh no.

\--

He tried to keep King Hassan out of his mind, but now that he’d been given the intimate privilege of seeing his face, he couldn’t help but notice those broad (spiked) shoulders and barrel chested body. Merlin didn’t get attached to people! That was his thing! He said it when he was summoned, he reminded Ritsuka of it whenever they got too close—but perhaps King Hassan was the exception to the rule because he was the exception to everything Merlin usually chased the skirt of. When they were out in the training grounds, Merlin had to remain unusually focused when he and the king were on the battlefield.

King Hassan wasn’t beautiful by Ritsuka’s summon-all-the-pretty-boys standards, but Merlin had been making friends with him and he felt some kind of connection only Grand servants must feel, to be at the edge of the world and watch over it as a guardian, Merlin of life and King Hassan of death. A regular Hades and Persephone, down to the flowers. If only he had a Demeter to involve herself!

He’d resolve this one way or another. Merlin’s very fleeting attachments to people usually ended when he slept with them and got it over with, so he might as well give it a try.

King Hassan, though…

Would he ever go for it? He hated depravity in all its forms. How could he convince him it wasn’t depraved? Now he was talking crazy, wasn’t he…

\--

“May I see your face again?”

“Fascinations with such trivial things will get you nowhere, Merlin.”

…! He had said his name! Finally, some progress. Perhaps even now he was thinking of Merlin as a friend. Nonetheless, Merlin smiled and waved him off. “It’s just… I’m trying to picture it in my mind and I can’t seem to get all the details right.”

“Merlin.”

“Yes?”

“To what end? I know your type. You cannot be serious as to wish to devour my energy.”

Seen through like Summer Tamamo’s t-shirt. Merlin had to diffuse this and fast.

“I don’t want to devour your energy—you have a real strange idea of what incubi do, anyway! I just… I feel close to you, and that’s weird for me, because I don’t like feeling close to anyone and my life is better off if I’m not. And you feel the exact same way, too!” Merlin wagged a finger. “You don’t like anyone getting close because all you wish for is oblivion at the end of the journey—you want to think of yourself as an idea rather than a person, but guess what! You’re a person and I’m a person, and we just have to deal with it!”

King Hassan seemed rather surprised with Merlin’s little outburst, and the mage had to collect himself. It wasn’t like him to lose composure like that, but he was dealing with something he thought he’d never have to deal with before.

“… King Hass—no, First Hassan.”

“Out with it.”

“I like you.”

A long, tense silence passed between them, neither of them the young schoolchildren who would do the dance of ‘but do you like-like me’—it was clear exactly what Merlin was referring to. King Hassan was utterly unreadable. Merlin knew this would probably be the end of their friendship.

“Very well.”

… what?

“If it breaks whatever spell you consider yourself having for me, I will oblige you but once, magus.”

“But—what about hating depravity? I’m an incubus! At least half of one!” Merlin gestured to himself wildly. “Aren’t I exactly what you hate?”

“Do not make me change my mind.” King Hassan paused. “I uphold my morals rigidly, but at the end of my long life, I can oblige the request of a friend.”

Merlin wisely didn’t press it.

\--

The Old Man of the Mountain probably was repressing his own feelings, Merlin thought idly. He wouldn’t agree to this if he didn’t care, right? Well, whatever his reasoning, Merlin wisely dropped any sort of sexy show to put on, knowing it would be to King Hassan’s distaste. This would be quick and over with as anything could be. All he had to do was prepare himself for King Hassan. There was no embarrassment slicking his hands with lubricant and entering himself to stretch as the king removed his mask and watched idly. This wasn’t depraved, this was—something. This was something that wasn’t Merlin’s usual debauchery.

He found himself watching King Hassan’s face, wondering how he’d remove his armor and deal with sex in general. When Merlin finished up, he laughed lightly and said “Well, whenever you’re ready, I—”

His armor disappeared in a glimmer of golden light. Ah. So it’d be pretty hard to remove all of that without using your heroic spirit powers, huh? All that was left were the plain clothes beneath, and King Hassan roughly pushed Merlin against the wall. So much for any ceremony, though Merlin was getting chills just at the rough touch of his hand around his wrist, planting it firmly against the wall.

Had he ever had any lovers? The head of his cock pressed into Merlin, whose fingernails dug into the wall. He was huge! Massive! He hadn’t turned around to get a good look at him, but he could feel himself stretch around him and thank god for the practice Merlin had with others, because otherwise he was sure he couldn’t take this. Panting as his long, fluffy hair was pushed over his shoulders so it wouldn’t get in King Hassan’s way, he wondered if he’d be able to take this. No! No, he was an incubus, he could handle anything thrown his way. As King Hassan loomed over his shoulder, there was a brief snap of his hips and he was all the way in. Merlin _gasped_.

This was good… almost… almost too good. He resolved to savor every moment as this was certainly a onetime thing.

He keened and moaned as he was fucked roughly from behind, no gentleness, no practice. This was probably King Hassan’s first time with a man if not with anyone. Merlin wasn’t hearing any sort of breath from behind him, no panting, not even a growl. He was just delivering what Merlin had asked without any sort of exertion on his own part, and Merlin found it… kind of hot. Even as Merlin was preying on his energy, he didn’t seem to waver or gasp. He must be feeling it. You don’t have sex with an incubus and _not_.

He could feel the sweat of his palms around his waist as he bucked his hips into Merlin, who was beside himself at this point. Would he even come? Would he care enough? Merlin shook beneath his grasp, gasped and grunted and made all sorts of vocalizations. He dared to glance over his shoulder, just to see his face—and he could see it, the telltale expression of weariness in his eyes, the exhaustion of sex pouring over him. Merlin resolved to bounce his hips back into him to make it easier on him, feeling his own orgasm grow ever nearer.

_Just a bit more, just a bit more_. Merlin desperately didn’t want it to end, because that would be the end of all of this. He was amazed someone who so rigidly despised this sort of thing would agree to it, but perhaps his needling into his heart had done them both some good. With a shudder, Merlin came on the wall in front of him, but he wasn’t going to let King Hassan get away without some pleasure of his own. He could feel him start to withdraw, but backed up on him yet again, earning his first and only grunt of the evening. It encouraged him to finish inside him.

King Hassan let go at the end of it, using his aura as a heroic spirit to clean himself and go back into his armor. Merlin was a panting mess, but worst of all, he didn’t feel his interest in King Hassan fade. Usually, this was the end of it.

He wanted more.

He’d never get it, but he wanted more.

\--

Around Chaldea, you could see the two of them walking together and talking. It was a strange sight to see Merlin so cheery with King Hassan, who was as tough-looking and scary as ever, but there was an odd glow to their friendship. The most opposite of people sharing time together could make even the dourest heart at Chaldea light up a little.

Merlin would never ask for more, but he could content himself with knowing the Assassin for as long as Chaldea would allow him.

His only friend in a world where he allowed no one to get close, just like the king himself.

**Author's Note:**

> My discord server decided King Hassan is a kireiface due to his voice actor, so that's what he looked like in this fic if you didn't guess by the description. Yorokobe, Merlin.


End file.
